La Cucaracha
by dewturner
Summary: It is 1911. Blue Cannon is the greatest Hacendero of all Arizona. But his youngest son, 16 year old Johnny, is a problem with which he must deal. He decides the boy should have a "real job" so he can decide to finish his education. The boy, however, has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

La Cucaracha

By dewturner

Blue Cannon stepped out of the house and into the sunlight streaming from the bright sunset. He walked to the front gate and wished he had the time to paint. It had been years since he'd last touched a brush, since Big John died and the ranch became his and Buck's. He remembered his surprise when he learned that Buck, his father's rogue younger brother, actually owned half of the High Chaparral as well as half of the C Bar M and half of Converse Freight; and, Buck had invested more wisely than John as well. Although a much bigger shock about Uncle Buck had awaited Blue's return from St. Louis – the news that Buck's wife and sons had not been murdered; that the tombstones Big John had placed in the cemetery in Dodge City to honor his sister-in-law and his nephews actually marked three unknown graves; that Buck's second son worked over a year at the High Chaparral before either of them knew they had blood between them. After the death of Big John, when everyone learned Buck's financial situation, Buck decided to give his half of the High Chaparral and the C Bar M to the surviving child of his first marriage, then he moved his second family to Phoenix, from where he controlled Converse Freight, the shipping business of his wife Charly Converse Cannon.

Now that surviving child sat before the fence, staring out between the rails. Blue stopped beside him. "Beautiful sunset tonight, Wind," Blue greeted his cousin and partner.

Wind answered slowly, "Yes, it is."

"I had the feeling at supper that something was bothering you," Blue stated.

"Johnny," Wind answered, referring to Blue's youngest son. "If I could get out of this thing," he slammed the heels of his hands into the arms of the wheelchair to which he was dependent, "it wouldn't have ended peaceable."

Blue recognized his uncle's rebellious spirit, "What did Johnny do?"

"Catherine asked him to get something from the storage shed," Wind described the scene. "Johnny did more than refuse. He said, 'I am not your slave.' Then he called his mother a name I have not heard a white lady called. I remember, years ago, hearing someone call a laundress over at Fort Bowie by the term and asking Sam what it meant. Sam said it meant 'female dog.' Not something a man should call his mother."

"Johnny called his mother _that_?" Blue turned to stride to the house. "I'll take care—"

"Blue! Wait!" Wind cried.

Blue stopped and returned to Wind. "There is no excuse for that!"

"I agree! But, I've been giving it some thought!" Wind defended the boy, "He's what? 16? About the age a Pawnee proves he's a warrior and earns his name. I recall doing some pretty stupid things to try to earn my name. Surprising I didn't break my neck instead of my back. I was remembering Matthew and Mark – they fought each other every step of the way."

"And Luke spent three years trying to build that engine. When he finally got it started, it blew up," Blue chuckled.

Wind snorted, "And then there were Sebastian and Carlos."

Blue laughed, "I will _never_ forget Mano complaining about their behavior and Mother saying, 'They're your sons, Manolo.'" His face turned crimson, "And I did some pretty stupid things myself." Anger replaced embarrassment, "But that still doesn't excuse the use of that word!"

"I agree," Wind stated. Blue started to turn. Wind halted him again, "Wait a minute, Blue, and hear me out. I know we spend a lot of money to send that boy to that fancy military school. The other boys turned out well so I'm not blaming the school. Johnny's grades are not as good as the others. The only class he has good grades in is civics. Maybe Johnny needs a different way to prove he's a man. He has no idea what it's like to be a slave – and I'm not about to show him the scars on my back! Maybe what he needs is a real job – away from the ranch and anyone who might give him special treatment because he's William Cannon's son."

Blue chuckled, "Sam never much cared; he yelled at everyone equally."

"'All you'll hear is the sound of my voice!'" Wind tried to mimic the foreman they both adored and revered. Both men roared at the poor imitation. When they stopped cackling, Wind pointed out, "But Reece isn't Sam."

Blue nodded. He sighed, "So what are you recommending?"

"He needs a job that requires strength and courage and is away from the Chaparral. I was wondering if Luke might have something – not under Luke's direct supervision," Wind expounded.

Blue nodded, "Yes, the mine. Good idea. I don't know if I can convince Catherine, though."

"After she spent over an hour in her room crying this afternoon, she might welcome the suggestion," Wind asserted sharply.

Blue grunted, "I'll talk to her this evening." He examined the darkening sky, "I think I'll go invite her out to wander under the stars."

"I'll go in then," Wind reached for the wheels of his wooden wheelchair.

"Want me to push you?" Blue offered.

Wind shook his head, "Gotta be a man somehow."

Hugh, the British butler John Cannon hired after the birth of his second daughter, served breakfast after the entire family gathered at the big dining room table. Annalee and John Cannon's round table had long since been replaced by a large rectangular mission table from the Rancho de Montoya. As the family grew with children, wives, and grandchildren, the round table simply did not provide enough space. The two patriarchs Blue and Wind sat at opposite ends of the table; Catherine sat at Blue's right; and, Wind's wife Elizabeth normally sat at Wind's right. However, Elizabeth, Blue's step-mother Victoria, and Wind's younger daughter Margaret had gone to Tucson to work on wedding arrangements. The others gathered, however: Blue's twin sons Matthew and Mark, their wives and toddler sons, and Blue's youngest son Johnny. The other children – Luke, Hope, Annalee, and Teresa – had married and moved to homes of their own: Luke in Douglas, Hope in Tucson, Annalee in England, and Teresa at the C Bar M. This morning, Blue thought, one has to bellow like a stranded bull to be heard.

"I've got business in Douglas so I'll be taking the train over. Cath, would you like to go along and see Luke?" he yelled, even though Catherine was sitting right there beside him.

Catherine shouted, "Of course. And, Johnny, I know Luke would like to see you. Why don't you come along?"

Johnny turned his head so his father couldn't see the look of distain that clouded his fair young face – but, Wind noted it. There was something about suggestions coming from his mother that bothered the boy. Had they not trained him well enough to respect women? The other boys respected the women of the house. Johnny spoke with arrogance, "Yeah, I'll go."

"Good. After breakfast, you can hitch up the wagon," Blue ordered.

Johnny cried, "The wagon! Why don't we take the car?"

"Because we are only going to the train station. Matthew will go with us and bring the wagon and horses back," Blue's voice had a low growl.

Johnny argued, "He could bring the car back just as easy."

"We are taking the wagon," Blue snarled. Wind thought Blue sounded more like Big John every day.

Johnny mumbled under his breath and looked down at his breakfast. A pout formed on his lips. He shoved his breakfast from him and stood. Matthew and Mark winced as Johnny's chair scratched the tile floor like fingernails on a school slate. His blue eyes blazed as he glared at everyone seated around the table before he strode to the door.

"Spoilt," Matthew and Mark spoke in tandem.

Blue scowled at his eldest sons. "You're both old enough to know better." Catherine rose as if to follow Johnny. Blue caught her hand, "Leave him be, Cath." She returned meekly to her seat. Blue glanced at Wind, who nodded solemnly.

Consuelo, the young kitchen maid, cleared plates from the table one by one. Blue escorted Catherine outside to the surrey to which Johnny had hitched two horses and to which he had tied Matthew's sturdy bay and Blue's gray stallion. Johnny sat in the driver's seat. Blue had been going to offer Johnny the chance to ride the gray but the boy's tight-lipped, almost malicious, stare stopped him. Blue boosted Catherine into the seat next to Johnny, checked to see that Hugh had stowed the suitcase in the surrey, and mounted the gray as Matthew swung into the bay's saddle.

Wind observed from the doorway as they left under the gate; then he turned his chair and rolled into the study. The study and the room that had been built as an extension from the entryway by enclosing what had been a storage area for firewood after his accident, as well as the living room/dining room, had become his working world – when he wasn't serving in the Territorial Government from his father's home in Phoenix. He went to the bookshelf and pulled out a book, placed it on his lap, and rolled behind the desk. He flipped through the book until he found the page he wanted. His skin prickled. Without looking up, he said, "Come in, Mark."

Mark stepped into the room. "I thought I'd walked quietly enough you wouldn't hear me. I even took off my boots!"

"I smelled your feet." Wind couldn't suppress his grin so he looked over the top of his reading glasses and smiled, "How can I help you?"

Mark sat on the corner of Wind's desk. "Pa isn't going to Douglas on business, is he?"

"Why do you ask that?" Wind closed the book. Mark had been his student since he was a small child. Mark would take over the books and the politics of the ranch just as Wind had; Matthew would have the business of the ranch as Blue had. Wind tried to teach Mark to read situations. It was time for a lesson as Mark should not have had to ask.

"Because if Pa is going somewhere on business, you and Pa discuss it at the dinner table or the breakfast table. You listen to Grandma; you listen to Ma and to Aunt Elizabeth; you even listen to us sometimes. But this morning," Mark narrowed his light blue eyes that matched perfectly his father's, "this morning neither one of you discussed business. Pa's not going to Douglas on business, is he?"

"Is that a question?" Wind asked, shifting his body by using his elbows on the arms of the wheelchair.

Mark remained silent for a moment. "No." He stared at the toes of his bare socks. "So, why is he going to Douglas?"

"Why are you asking?" Wind answered. "You tell me why."

Mark examined Wind, "Uncle Wind. I'm never allowed to ask questions anymore."

Wind grinned, "You shouldn't have to. You have to be able to read witnesses in court."

"When?" Mark asked. Impatience smoldered in his eyes. "Yes, I'm reading law with you; but, you never go to court. Beau's not that much older than me and he's passed the bar already."

"You get good enough with the family then you'll go to Phoenix and clerk with Beau. You decided to earn your Master of Business Administration first and then to read law with me rather than continue at Harvard. Beau went to law school after his Bachelor degree." Wind explained. "Now. Why is your father going to Douglas?"

Mark thought, then he spoke slowly, "Well, he asked Ma if she wanted to go along to see Luke. I reckon seeing Luke is the main reason. And Ma asked Johnny to go with 'em. I reckon it has something to do with Johnny."

After several minutes of silence, Wind prompted, "And?"

Mark's brow furrowed. "More? There's more?"

Wind's brown, almost black, eyes drilled into Mark's blue eyes. "And?" he prompted again.

Mark licked his lips. "Johnny can be a real pain in the butt sometimes. But he's a kid." Wind's eyebrows rose. Mark's brow furrowed again. He emphasized his words, "He's a kid, Uncle Wind."

"A kid? Are you sure he's a kid?" Wind asked.

Mark argued, "Uncle Wind, he's only 16!"

"When you were 16, you were greatly offended if someone called you a kid," Wind stated. "When I was 16, I was a hunter and trying to prove I was a man."

Mark examined the floor, "So Pa's taking Johnny to Luke to work with Luke? Luke won't have that mouthy brat."

"And it wouldn't be good for Johnny to work under Luke directly anyway," Wind agreed.

"And he'll be going back to school in a week," Mark stated.

Wind raised his eyebrows. "Maybe."

"You don't think he'll be going back to school? Education's always been important to Pa – and to you," Mark argued.

"Sometimes education does not take place in school," Wind stated. "Perhaps a year with a shovel in his hand will give him more of an education that the Missouri Military Academy," Wind stated.

Mark grinned. Anything military was a sore subject with Wind. Mark stood, "Well, I got work to do."

With a hiss of steam, the train stopped in the Douglas station. From the window, Blue had spotted his young daughter-in-law, Joe Butler's daughter Florence. The big, floppy, stylish hat hid her face but he recognized her form; but, seeing her at the station, Blue knew with relief that Wind's telegram had gone through. Luke knew what Blue needed. Blue handed Catherine to the platform and took the suitcase from Johnny as Florence greeted Catherine. Then Florence came to Blue. "Papablue," she said as she kissed his cheek.

"Florence, you look more ravishing every day," Blue stated. "You remember Johnny, of course?"

Johnny stuck out his hand rather than greet his sister-in-law with a kiss. Strange, Blue thought.

Florence shook Johnny's hand then turned back to Blue, "You will be staying with us."

"Not this time, Florence," Blue stated. "We'll stay at the Gadsden this time. You and Luke can join us there for dinner."

Florence smiled with what Blue interpreted as relief, "Put the suitcase in the car. I'll drive you over. Then Mother and I can go shopping. There are some wonderful new fashions at the department store."

They walked to her car. Blue stored the suitcase in the back, then handed the ladies into the car. "Johnny, take some time to explore the town. I know Douglas ain't much but it has some interesting places," Blue suggested. "I have a meeting with Mr. Dacosta then I'll meet you all back at the hotel at five for dinner."

"Sure, Pa," John said.

They went in separate directions. Once at the Calumet and Arizona Company smelter office, though, Blue went to Luke's office instead of that of Merkle Dacosta. Luke greeted him enthusiastically. "What's this about a job for Johnny?" he asked as they seated themselves in Luke's office.

"Johnny needs a job that requires strength, courage, and independence," Blue explained. "He's not cutting the grade at the academy. Nothing like you other boys did. I personally think he isn't applying himself. He doesn't have any goals. And he's not been respectful to your mother since he's been home. Wind thinks he needs something different to prove he's a man."

"There's work in Clifton. I could get him on there, I expect," Luke said. "Do you think he'll go for it?"

"That depends on how thick you can spread it," Blue said. "Independence, his own money – you know the drill?"

Luke nodded, "Yeah. You go on back to the Gadsden. I'll be there for dinner. I know Flo was going to ask Ma to go shopping. Hopefully Johnny won't disappear."

"What makes you think Johnny will disappear?" Blue asked.

Luke ground his teeth for a moment. "That Pancho Villa guy. Rumor has it he's headed to Agua Prieta; that the Federales plan to hold firm there. Refugees have already come across the border. There's a camp on the east side of town – a hundred, maybe two hundred. We've pulled all our workers and their families north and re-assigned them until this is over or the rumors die down."

"Sounds a little drastic," Blue stated.

Luke shrugged, "Like Uncle Mano sending Aunt Anne and the children to live in the new house in Tucson?"

Blue shrugged in return. "I thought a lot of that was Anne's attitude toward Mexico. At least we speak English – even if it isn't the 'King's English.'"

The two of them chuckled. Mano's wife Anne, the youngest sister of Lord Ashbury, had never totally adjusted to life at the Rancho de Montoya; for all of its luxuries, it remained an armed camp even 30 years after the death of Don Sebastian. The strength of the revolutionaries concerned Blue as well. Many of them talked of re-taking the lands lost in 1848 or sold to the United States in 1853. Although Blue had heard that sort of talk before.

"So you think Johnny will go off and join the _Rurales_?" Blue asked.

Luke shook his head, "Nope. The Villistas."

"So you will make arrangements for him in Clifton?" Blue verified.

Luke nodded, "I already started. Jeremy has a spot for him if he agrees to go. Jeremy said he'd be glad to teach him the difference between an education and a strong back."

Blue nodded, "That's what we need."

Johnny walked through the doors of the Gadsden Hotel. Marble walls, marble pillars, the great marble staircase, the polished and burnished wood of the front desk, the high-class restaurant to the left, the separate entrance to the saloon. It all spoke of wealth and opulence. None of this belongs here, Johnny thought. The Calumet and Arizona Company doesn't treat its workers right or it wouldn't be able to flaunt this pompous hotel, or the elegant theater across the street, or the other extravagant buildings on the main street of this otherwise cheerless mill town. As he walked up to the front desk, he wished he had taken the time to pack that book from civics class. He could have taken the time to study it further, to see how it applied to the Calumet and Arizona Company copper smelter rather than the British cotton mills. With more study and some application, perhaps he could figure out how to assist these workers into the comradeship of International Workers of the World.

The man at the front desk examined him and sniffed, "May I help you?"

"I'm John Cannon. I guessing my father William Cannon made reservations," Johnny stated.

The man turned the guest register to the young pale man. "Yes, sir, he did. In fact you are to have your own room. If you'll sign the register, please?"

Johnny smiled to himself as he dipped the nub of the pen in ink and signed the register. He looked at the register and saw that his mother had already signed for herself and Blue. "Mr. & Mrs. William Cannon." How paternal and capitalistic! He thought. His mother allowed herself to be a slave to his father as much as she treated her children as slaves. She should have signed her own name – Catherine Leigh-Cannon! Or, in a more perfect world, Catherine Leigh! Why should she have to have his father's name? If he ever married, he would insist that his wife keep her own name! Marriage is a contract, after all! That is what Karl Marx wrote!

The clerk handed him a key and gave him directions on how to find his room. Johnny ascended the grand marble staircase and walked around the mezzanine, into the bowels of the hotel where the bourgeoisie doorways gave way to more proletariat frames. He found his room and inserted the key in the lock.

The door opened and he entered a simple room with a brass bed, wooden dresser, and modern bathroom. He drew himself a bath.

At five o'clock, he went downstairs to the restaurant and found his parents in deep conversation with Luke and Florence. He joined them at the table, trying to slip into his seat as quietly as possible to avoid interrupting what might be an interesting conversation.

". . . in Tucson?" Blue asked. "Why not at the Chaparral?"

"There's more room at Aunt Anne's," Luke explained. "Plus it's closer to medical assistance if something goes wrong."

Blue argued, "But Grace and Joanne had their first children at the High Chaparral."

"And Teresa's first child was born at Saint Mary's Hospital in Tucson," Luke stated.

Blue scowled, "Teresa's situation is different. Beatrice is a Montoya. And Teresa's children may have to prove they are United States citizens someday."

"Because they are Montoyas?" Florence asked.

"Because Sebastian is a Montoya and Teresa is a Pawnee – a quarter Pawnee," Catherine explained.

"Uncle Wind is a Cannon," Luke stated.

Blue shook his head, "Not by law. Uncle Buck's marriage to Wind's mother was annulled by the United States government. Her children were declared illegitimate. If it weren't for the good relationship between Wind and Aunt Charly, her children would become my partners."

"Not that her children live in poverty," Johnny spoke before he thought and mentally bit his tongue.

Something in his tone, however, caused Blue's blood to turn cold.

"And they should?" Luke responded with a snarl before Blue could speak.

"There's no reason any of us should have more than we need," Johnny asserted. "They've got that big house in Phoenix, free passes on the railroad for life, enough money they never have to work." He wrinkled his nose, "But Beauregard is in that Phoenix law firm; Jefferson has gotten into expansion of that freight business; Dorothy's going to Paris to study art – of all the unnecessary subjects; Ophelia attends that fancy girls school with Uncle Mano's girls. They have much more than they need."

Luke snarled, "Well, perhaps you would like to experience life without all those luxuries Pa can afford for you? I can offer you a job in the mine and you can live on what you make with your own hands."

"I'd like that, actually," Johnny declared. He cheered himself for his timing – it was just what he'd been imagining, a way to organize the miners against the depredations of the proprietors. "When do I start?"

Luke answered, "We'll leave day after tomorrow and go up to Clifton. There's a perfect job for you there."

"Good." Johnny looked at his mother and declared. "I can go back to school any old time."

The sound of gun shots sounded from the saloon. Blue caught the arm of a waiter that hurried past him. "What's happening?"

"Bunch of drunk Mexicans," the waiter sniffed. "They crossed the border over by Skeleton Canyon. Now they're drinking in the saloon. Someone said it's Pancho Villa and his officers."

"Is it safe to get the ladies out of the hotel?" Blue asked.

The waiter nodded, "Yes. Come this way."

He led them through the kitchen to the back service entrance. Luke dashed across the parking lot to his huge International Harvester Corporation touring car. He turned the crank, jumped into the right side driver's seat, drove to the service entrance, and loaded the women in to the car. Blue joined him in the front passenger seat. Johnny didn't move.

"Johnny! Get in the car!" Catherine ordered.

He shook his head, "No, Ma. I'm going to stay."

"Johnny – "

"Leave him be, Ma," Luke stated as he shifted gears. "He's declared his independence."

Luke started forward. Johnny returned to the hotel. Luke took his parents and his wife to his own home in the trendy management-section of the showcase city of Douglas.

Johnny went into the lobby filled with Mexican men. He leaned against one of the marble pillars and watched. Which one is the legendary Pancho Villa? he wondered. He had heard that Pancho Villa fought against the corrupt and capitalistic Mexican government; that his goal was to take the grand haciendas from _patrones_ like Don Manolo de Montoya and give it to the people who really worked the land; then he would cross the border and liberate the lands the United States had stolen from Mexico to return it to the people as well. It was a cause Johnny could support. The miners would be liberated when the Villistas took Arizona Territory.

A Mexican rode his horse through the front door of the hotel. The others laughed as he pulled the pistols from his belt – one pistol in each hand – and guided his horse up the marble staircase with his knees, shooting the pistols as he went. When he reached the landing, where the staircase split into two, he nudged his horse to rear and stand on its hind legs like the statue of a man killed in battle. The horse returned to its four hooves.

The Mexican addressed the crowd, "They will make a statue of me in this way! After tomorrow, we will all be the heroes of México! Tomorrow, we will ride into Agua Prieta and we will take it from the corrupt officials! The _Rurales_ will be no more!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd. The man rode his horse up one of the branches of the staircase. The clatter of hooves sounded as the man galloped the entire way around the mezzanine and he descended the staircase. He dismounted at the bottom and hands patted him – and the horse – as if the men touched the religious medals many of them also carried.

Johnny walked to one of the quieter men. "Is that Pancho Villa?" he asked in perfect Mexican Spanish.

"_Oh, sí, patron_," the man answered.

Johnny frowned, "Do not call me _patron_. My name is Juan."

"You do not look Mexican," the voice of Pancho Villa said from behind him.

Johnny spun to face the wild man he'd come into the lobby to meet, "Oh, no, _señor_. I am John Cannon, the son of William Cannon, and I would like to join you."

"Why?" Pancho Villa asked.

Johnny swallowed and plunged into the cold water of politics, "Because I believe in you. I believe in your cause."

Pancho Villa put an arm around Johnny's shoulders and led him into the saloon. There they sat at a booth, "How old are you, _chico_?"

"Sixteen, sir," Johnny answered.

Pancho Villa smiled, "A man in México!" He signaled to the bartender, "Two taquilas, _señor_!" He patted Johnny on the back, "I welcome the son of the big _patron_ of the High Chaparral!"

Matthew guided the horses of the surrey under the sign of the High Chaparral. His mother sat stony faced beside him; his father rode his gray stallion beside the surrey. Matthew brought the surrey to the entry way, where the twins' wives Grace and Joanne stood, holding the hands of their sons William and Robert; Grace's father Sam stood with one great hand on his daughter's right should and his other hand on Joanne's left shoulder; Wind, flanked by his wife Elizabeth and his younger daughter Margaret, were to one side of them; Blue's step-mother Victoria and Wind's step-mother Charly stood to either side of Buck Cannon. Blue dismounted and tossed his reins to Mark, who had come from the direction of the corrals. Matthew stepped from the surrey and lifted his mother to the ground.

Wind spoke, "He took the job?"

"No, he didn't." Blue answered. He flung a piece of hotel stationary at Wind. "He joined the Mexican Revolutionaries and Pancho Villa." He looked around his family. "He believes that none of us should be where we are today; that it's wrong to have wealth; that Mano is the worst offender of us all. He wrote a note to us saying he will never return unless or until we give up the ranch and divide it among the hands." He walked over to Victoria and took her cold hands in his. "I'm sorry, Mother. He was more like me than I realized. And now it's too late." He looked at each member of the family, then back to Victoria. "I'm sorry I have to do this. We will never say the name of John Cannon in this house again."


	2. Chapter 2

For The Uniform

By Diana Turner

Mark Cannon lifted his face into the April wind blowing down the canyon. The wind was cold but the sun was warm. It felt good to be out of the house. The battle there raged for days – Victoria and Buck squared off again Blue and Wind over Johnny. Mark jumped at the chance to be out of the house, even though the "adults" had declared a truce the night before when Joanne produced the book she'd found hidden in Johnny's room – _The Communist Manifesto_ by Karl Marx. This morning he left the four of them in Wind's study reading the book aloud.

Matthew rode up beside him. "Cold yet?"

"Nope," Mark answered.

Matthew laughed, "You will be!" He pointed up the canyon. "Let's go up that way."

Mark kicked his heels into the flanks of his palomino. Matthew raced to catch up. About a quarter of a mile later, they both reined in, laughing at their impetuousness. They allowed their horses to blow.

They suddenly stiffened and looked at each other. They both heard the sound again. A moan from among the bushes to their left raised the short hairs on the back of Matthew's neck. Matthew drew his pistol as Mark dismounted and carefully walked toward the bushes. On the ground, well-hidden by low juniper branches, rested a young man in the greenish-brown battle uniform of the Mexican army. Mark crawled among the juniper's branches as the young man moaned again. He touched the soldier's face. Hot. Fevered hot. Blood covered the young man's right leg. Mark pulled his knife and slit the young man's pant leg. An oozing wound with angry red flesh radiating from the torn, ragged edges met his eyes. He turned, "Matt! Bring my canteen and bed roll!"

Matthew dismounted, pulling his own canteen from the saddle horn. He quickly untied his twin's bedroll from the back of the saddle. He carried the items to his brother. While his brother removed the cork from the canteen and gave water to the injured man, Matthew tucked the blanket around him.

The water roused the young man. Matthew spoke to him softly, "_¿Cómo te llamas?_"

As the young man answered, Mark thought to himself that the man looked more _indio_ than _blanco_; he was not an _hidalgo_. He was young – not much older than Johnny – but he was dressed in a soldier's uniform with the insignia of a Mexican infantry private. Mark thought the arm patch belonged to the unit stationed at Agua Prieta. That would make him from the unit that was trounced a few days before under the embarrassing gaze of _estadounidenses_ watching from the roofs of the businesses across the border in Douglas—across the border but close enough to the fight that several Douglas businessmen were killed by stray bullets. There had been a few brave enough – or stupid enough, depending on your point of view – to actually cross the border and the Mexicans (_Federales_ and rebels alike) took American prisoners. The _Federales_ released their prisoners when they reached Naco but the rebels still held their prisoners.

"_Me llamo Diego. Diego Bendecido_," the soldier answered as he looked from one blond, blue-eyes young man to the other. _Ángeles_, he thought. Must be _ángeles_. The two men had exactly the same round face, broad cheeks bones, yellow hair like the sun, eyes as blue as the Sonoran sky. They even had an identical large mole on their cheeks, directly under their left eyes, that looked like a berry complete with seeds.

Matthew asked in Spanish, "Can you get on a horse if we help you?"

Must be _ángeles_, Diego thought again. _Gringos_ don't speak Spanish. "I can ride," he answered.

"Let's get you out of here, then," Mark said in Spanish.

The two Cannons assisted him to crawl from the bush and they half-carried him to the horses. Mark mounted and between him and Matthew, they pulled and pushed Diego into Mark's saddle. Matthew mounted and they turned toward the High Chaparral.

Blue stepped from the house into the evening light and stretched. Buck, leaning on his cane, came out behind him. The light struck his pure white hair, giving it a halo effect. Buck spoke, the same gravelly, gruff, Southern accent that he had embraced during the Civil War and had never renounced, "Maybe you boys be right. But I don't think so. I think the boy's misled by someone. Whoever that teacher is what give him that book maybe."

"Maybe both, Uncle Buck," Blue argued. "Maybe that teacher introduced him to a new way to prove he's a man."

"You boys are stuck on the idea of him proving he's a man," Buck accused.

Blue grinned, "You didn't ever try to prove you're a man, Uncle Buck?"

"Well, yeah, I reckon I did. But I never deserted the family," Buck argued.

Blue examined him, "What about – "

"Riders coming!" a voice called from the roof of the house.

Blue and Buck turned to watch Matthew and Mark ride through the gate. They saw the blanket-wrapped figure on the front of Mark's saddle. Blue turned and stepped swiftly to the door. He stuck his head through the door and yelled, "Mother! Someone's hurt!"

Victoria, Charly, Elizabeth, and Margaret came from the house, followed by Margaret's fiancé Dr. Andrew Burkhardt. Mark and Matthew rode up to the door. Matthew dismounted as Blue, Andrew, and several hands rushed forward to help lower the blanketed form to the ground. Andrew dug into the blanket and went straight to examining the young man.

When he finished, he stood. He looked at Victoria, who still knelt beside the young man. He addressed Blue, "Mr. Cannon, may we move him to your kitchen? I'm going to need to operate."

Blue deferred to Victoria, "Mother?"

"Of course," she answered.

Blue, Matthew, Mark, and one of the hands picked up the boy and carried him through the house to the kitchen. Victoria and Elizabeth followed Andrew while Catherine and Joanne scurried up the stairs to the supply room for bandages. The four men left the kitchen after depositing Diego on the great kitchen table to be subjected to Andrew's ministrations. Margaret went to the spare bedroom and dressed the bed with fresh sheets and blankets.

The hired hand left the house as Wind returned to the living room from the study. Blue turned to Matthew and Mark, "You both didn't need to bring him here."

"Pa!" Mark gasped.

Matthew continued his thought, "We couldn't leave him for the wolves!"

Blue shook his head, "That wasn't what I said. I said you _both_ didn't need to bring him here. Mark could have brought him here while Matthew rode to the border checkpoint and had them send a telegram to La Ciudad or to Fort Huachuca. The way it is, it will take longer for the consulate to send someone here to claim him."

"I sent the telegram, Blue," Wind stated. "But, Matt, if you had gone to the border crossing, the doctor from Fort Huachuca would already be on his way."

Buck coughed. They all looked at him. "I swear. John Cannon lives in the both of ya." Leaning on his cane, Buck stumped from the room and up the stairs.

Wind and Blue looked at each other. "He isn't about to surrender," Blue stated.

"Agreed," Wind nodded. "Fort's sending a patrol and Mexican consulate is sending a representative."

Blue rolled his eyes. "I don't mind the representative from the consulate but I hate having soldiers around the place again."

"Wouldn't have been any different if I'd gone to the border crossing," Matthew stated.

Mark growled, "Army has to send a patrol regardless. Mexican soldier on U. S. soil. Might be different once we're a state."

"I doubt it," Matthew scoffed. "Border crossers will always be a problem."

Wind stated softly, "But the Army will have a different role. Although, with the rebellion in Mexico, we need the Army to guard the border."

Blue nodded, "Absolutely."

The hours passed. Diego, dressed in one of Wind's nightshirts, slept under the influence of morphine and the watchful eyes of Victoria and Elizabeth.

Morning dawned. Wind sent one of the hands with the surrey to meet the Mexican consulate at the train station. The man from the consulate arrived at the ranch surrounded by a patrol of Buffalo Soldiers from Fort Huachuca, which had been in the baggage car with their horses on the same train in which the man from the consulate rode first class.

Blue introduced himself to the diplomat and the white lieutenant assigned to the patrol of black troopers – and the black Army doctor the Buffalo Soldiers had brought with them. "Please, come in the house," Blue invited them. "We have the young man in one of the bedrooms."

He led the men up the stairs and to the spare room where the soldier was. As they walked, the man from the consulate asked, "Has this young man said anything?"

Blue answered, "He told my sons his name is Diego Bendecido but he's been too sick to really say much else."

Blue opened the door to the spare room. The men walked in and found Andrew removing the dressing from Diego's leg. The Army doctor stepped forward and joined Andrew. "Dr. Michael Zurbriggen," the Army doctor introduced himself to Andrew.

Andrew responded, "Dr. Andrew Burkhardt. The leg wound is infected. I removed a lot of damaged muscle from the wound but I suspect the leg will have to be removed."

Dr. Zurbriggen nodded, "You mind?"

"Be my guest," Andrew answered.

Dr. Zurbriggen examined the wound. When he finished, he spoke, "You did a good job cleaning it, Doctor. I think you may be right about the final outcome but, for now, the wound is clean." He looked at Diego's face. "You have him sedated?"

Andrew nodded, "He was in severe pain last night."

Dr. Zurbriggen nodded. "I would expect so." He turned toward the consulate's delegate and the lieutenant, "Right now, he's unconscious. It'll be a couple more hours before you can question him."

"We'll wait," both men answered in tandem.

Blue invited, "Gentlemen, come downstairs for some coffee."

"I'll remain with Dr. Burkhardt," Dr. Zurbriggen stated.

The lieutenant and the diplomat followed Blue down the stairs. As they came to the landing, Wind yelled, "Hugh! Coffee, please! Make it four!"

Blue waved at the couch, "Have a seat, gentlemen."

Matthew and Mark entered the house, almost on tip-toe. Both young men felt like teenagers listening to an adult conversation – made worse by the knowledge that they were older than the lieutenant.

Wind, his back to the twins, spoke loudly, "Hugh! Make that two more!" He lowered his voice, "Matthew. Mark. They're going to have questions for you. So come on in here."

Mark grinned at Matthew and nudged him with his elbow, "You can't sneak past Uncle Wind." The twins came forward.

Blue pointed at the two chairs the twins habitually used. "Sit down, boys." He turned toward the lieutenant and the diplomat, "My sons Matthew and Mark. They found the young man." He introduced the two men, "Boys, the consul Alejandro de Barucú and Lieutenant Elijah Thompson of Fort Huachuca."

"_Señor_ Barucú. Lieutenant," Matthew said. Mark nodded in greeting.

"Gentlemen," the lieutenant said.

"_Señores_," the diplomat stated.

Lieutenant Thompson drew a deep breath and asked, "Where did you find him?"

Matthew and Mark looked at each other. Mark spoke, "About a mile north of the border."

Consul de Barucú stated, "You are athletic gentlemen. Were there any tracks?"

"I – " Matthew started.

Mark rolled his eyes, "There were tracks; but, we didn't follow them. If he traveled the line most lost men would, he would have been traveling from the direction of Agua Prieta."

Wind nodded. Mark had learned his tracking skills well. If there were any imperfection in the boots of the soldier, Mark would be able to identify them at the scene of the battle. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. There would be too many tracks at the battle scene to pick out one set of imperfect boots. But certainly he would have been able to pick up the tracks again by knowing which direction to look for them.

"Agua Prieta makes sense – there was a recent battle there. The _Federales_ were routed," Consul de Barucú stated. "You are certain the uniform was _Federal_?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Matthew answered.

Mark added, "And his accent is from central México. He is not from Sonora or Chihuahua. I'm not sure the accent from Morelos."

"That would be Nahuatl," Consul de Barucú stated.

"Didn't sound Apache to me," Matthew stated.

"Hopefully we can get a good debriefing from the soldier himself," Lieutenant Thompson stated.

The consul nodded, "Let us hope so."

Several hours later, Andrew came down the stairs. The men were sitting comfortably in the living room, although Matthew and Mark had left the house to attend to chores. Andrew spoke, "He is ready for debriefing."

Blue, Buck, the consul, and the lieutenant went up the stairs to the spare bedroom while Wind wheeled himself to his study. The four men entered the room. Diego sat propped with pillows; his face pallid. The consul spoke to him in Spanish, "I am the Consul de Barucú. What are you called?"

The young soldier spoke, "Diego Bendecido. I am a private in the Mexican Army. I am from Cuautla, Jalisco. My father is a sergeant in the Army. I am loyal to México!"

"Then what happened?" the consulate asked.

Diego closed his eyes, "I was wounded. I could not keep up." He opened his eyes, "The others of my unit, they did not want to wait for me. The medical unit – I don't know where they went. I fainted. When I woke, my unit was gone. It was dark. I started walking. I didn't know what direction I was going. I fainted several times more. The last time I woke up to two men standing over me."

The lieutenant spoke, his Spanish was broken, "You were with the garrison at Agua Prieta?"

"_Sí, Señor_," Diego answered. "They attacked from out of nowhere. We knew they were coming but not from where. It was like they came from Hell itself. They routed us." He pushed his head back into his pillows. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "_¡Dios, ayúdame!_ I never saw anything like it! It was terrible!"

"Gentlemen," Dr. Zurbriggen stepped forward. "He is enlisted. And he's seriously wounded. I'd like to take him back to the Fort Huachuca hospital for the sake of the uniform. I'd like to request any further questioning be done after he's settled at Fort Huachuca."

The consul nodded. "It is a good idea, Doctor. I will go with you to the Fort."

The men left the room and walked downstairs to the living room.

"In the morning we will take him to the station," the lieutenant stated.

Buck offered, "My private car is there. I'll have my son telegram the station to have it ready. You can use it to move the boy as far as Benson."

"Thank you, sir," the lieutenant stated.

Buck saw Wind come from the study. Wind's face was pale; his jaw muscles were taunt; his hands shook as they moved the chair forward. Buck spoke, "Wind?"

Wind looked past his father to where Charly sat with some mending in her lap. "Mother," Wind's voice sounded tear-filled. "Get Elizabeth. Please."

Buck examined his son's face. The weathered skin and salt-and-pepper hair almost hid the native beauty he had inherited from his mother along with her black eyes – black eyes that brimmed with tears? The inability to hide his emotions he inherited from Buck.

Charly saw the same pain in her stepson's face. She dropped her sewing and ran up the stairs. She returned behind Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth came down the steps, Wind held his hands to her. She took his hands as she knelt before him. "Wind? What's wrong?"

Wind held her hands tightly. He looked deeply into his wife's hazel eyes. In his eyes, the white streaks in her once-mahogany hair remained invisible; the laugh-lines around her eyes were non-existent. He loathed the pain he was about to inflict. His lips trembled as he spoke the traditional Pawnee words he knew Elizabeth MacPherson Cannon would understand and react to as a Pawnee Medicine Woman, "I speak of Understands White Man Tracks. He and First Son's Wife. They are one with Morning Star and Evening Star."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Fear spread across her face. She removed her right hand from her husband's hand and reached for the neckline of her dress. She pulled a small doeskin bag attached to a rawhide strand from the front of her dress. She kissed it as she opened it enough to place one finger inside. She licked the tip of her finger, inserted her finger in the bag, and removed corn pollen on the tip of the finger. She drew her finger across her forehead and her cheeks, leaving a trail of corn pollen over the freckles that dotted her face. She held the bag out to her husband. Wind took the bag and mirrored her motions. The streaks of golden pollen shone brightly against his dark cheeks and forehead.

Thus protected from the evil that had attacked his family, Wind spoke in English, "Daniel and Oriana," he swallowed before continuing, "have been murdered. I got a telegram from Mr. Washington. He has the children in his home."

"No! No!" Elizabeth buried her face on Wind's left leg. She gripped his pant legs. She sobbed uncontrollably. The evil was worse than she imagined. Murder!

Wind stroked her hair as he looked at Buck, "Father. Will you and Mother go with us to Tuskegee to retrieve our grandchildren?" Tears broke free from his eyes, causing the corn pollen to streak down his cheeks.

"Of course, my son," Buck choked. "We leave in the morning."

Wind bent over his wife's head and kissed the back of her hair line as his tears dripped down the back of her neck.


End file.
